


A Drop of Immortality

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from the episode "To Heal the Leper."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Drop of Immortality

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #15 under the pen name Llyr Chaves.

_"Blackwood isn't particularly rational."_

 

Paul sat at the small desk in the basement computer lab, working on his report and waiting for a call from the soldiers he'd sent out to look for Blackwood.  The images of Sylvia van Buren haunted his thoughts.

With Harrison missing, he and Suzanne had responded to the call from Whitewood, making the trip with a borrowed chopper from Ft. Streeter.  And as much as he wanted to believe the aliens were dead or gone, after having seen Sylvia, he couldn't.

He glanced up and watched Suzanne as she sat in her lab, making notes in a lab book.  There were times she acted just like Blackwood…

He heard the buzz of an incoming call.

"This is Harrison," Blackwood announced over the communications link.

"Doc?" Norton questioned, watching Suzanne and Ironhorse immediately move to stand in front of his workstation.  "People have been lookin' all over for you.  Hold on, I'll put you on the box…"  He reached out and pressed the speaker phone and took the hand receiver off the hook.  "Go ahead."

"I'm coming back," Blackwood announced.

" _Where_ are you?" Suzanne demanded.

"I'm at a beauty salon on the west end of town," Harrison explained.  "They struck again – twenty-three victims this time.  Twenty-three _living_ victims.  I don't have a clue as to what's going on.  I don't even know if it's the aliens anymore."

"Be sure," Suzanne said flatly.  "Sylvia's had another relapse; bad anxiety attack."

"She did?" Harrison asked, sounding surprised.  "What did she say?"

"She said—" Ironhorse started, then stopped, thinking about Blackwood's recent depression.  He glanced briefly at Norton, who sat, watching to see if he told the scientist the truth.  "She said they're back."

"Back?" Harrison echoed, then demanded, " _Where?_ "

"Apparently too nearby to tell," Ironhorse told him.  "But she's made some drawings, Harrison.  A triangle with a kind of lightning bolt inside."

"We can't figure out what it means," Suzanne added.

"Or if it means anything," Norton concluded

"I think I might…" Harrison announced.

The line went dead.

"Doc?" Norton called.

"Harrison?" Ironhorse demanded.

"Doc?"  He looked up at the soldier.  "He hung up."

"Why am I not surprised?" the colonel muttered, reaching for the phone.  He dialed.

There was no answer and he dialed a second number.

"Major, we just heard from Blackwood, he said he was on the west end of town.  Have your people concentrate on those areas…  Right…  Thank you, Major."

Suzanne waited until Ironhorse hung up before she asked, "They still don't know which town?"

"No," he admitted.  "Norton, crank up the Cray.  If the aliens hit a beauty shop and killed twenty-three people, it's going to show up on some police computer. I want to know which one.

"It might take a while," Norton said.

"We can't do anything except wait until we know where the hell he is," Ironhorse sighed.

"I'll get on it," the hacker said.

"I think I'll go see what's on television," Suzanne said with a sigh.  "I've had enough of waiting."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Norton's thoughts and reflexes merged, helping him build up a good-sized score against the aliens in his latest computer game.  On another screen the Cray shifted through the police computers, looking for reports dealing with beauty shops.

He blinked as the screen went blank, the regular power cutting off and the emergency power coming on.  He set the joy-stick aside and rolled closer to the workstation, attacking the keyboard.

"Come on, baby, boot it up…"

Suzanne pounded down the stairs, the colonel on her heels as Norton started his hunt for the cause of the power outage.

"Norton," she complained, "the television.  I finally get five minutes to my—" She stopped, realizing he was busy.

"Norton, what's going on?" Ironhorse asked.

"I'm working on it myself, all right?" Norton snapped, his hands coming up to warn the soldier off.  A map of the northwest United States appeared on the screen, the primary electric company symbol blinking on inside the borders of each state.  "Did you guys mention something about a lightning bolt?" Drake asked.

"This is an awful big coincidence, even for a skeptic like me," the colonel admitted, then reached for the phone.

"Who are you calling?" Suzanne asked.

"Harrison," he said, waiting a moment, then returning the receiver to its cradle with an annoyed bang.

"You didn't get a hold of him, did you," Suzanne said.

"We're sorry, your party is away from its unit, or out of our service range."

"What now?"

"We go see if we can find him," Ironhorse said.  He turned to Norton.  "I'm going to take the chopper up.  Find out which power station is closest to Whitewood and contact me."

"Will do," Norton said.

"I'm going with you," Suzanne announced.

Ironhorse paused for a moment, then nodded.  "Let's go."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

In the air Ironhorse felt the tension fall away and he drew in a deep breath.  The radio clicked and he answered.  "Talk to me, Norton."

"The power station closest to Whitewood is Lyndon Electric, _and_ I found a report in the Lyndon police computer about a possible gang attack at a local styling salon."

"That's got to be the aliens," Ironhorse said.

"You want me to contact the authorities?" the hacker asked.

"No.  Call Major Michaud and tell him what you found.  Have him send a team to the site A-S-A-P."

"Right."

Ironhorse glanced at Suzanne.  "What's up?" she asked.

"Lyndon.  There's a power plant there and some activity in a salon."

"The aliens?"

"That's my guess."

"How long before we're there?"

Ironhorse glanced at his watch.  "Ten, maybe fifteen minutes."

"God, I hope Harrison's all right," she breathed.  "If they get him…"

"He'll be fine, Suzanne," Ironhorse assured.  "He's got a sixth sense about the aliens."

The microbiologist smiled slightly.  "That doesn't sound particularly rational, Paul."

He met her gaze briefly, eyebrows arched.  "Blackwood isn't particularly rational."

"You have a point," she admitted, then settled back for the remainder of the flight.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Almost fifteen minutes later Ironhorse expertly maneuvered the chopper into the parking lot of the Lyndon Power Plant.  He cut the power and climbed out, helping Suzanne out.  They bent over to avoid the still turning rotor blades and jogged for the plant itself.

When they reached the door, Ironhorse reached out and grabbed Suzanne's arm.  "You stay behind me, just in case."

She nodded.  "Okay, but please don't shoot first?"

"I'll try to remember that," Paul sighed as he opened the door and stepped inside.

Moving through the semi-darkness lit only by the glare of red emergency and exit lights, the pair heard and saw nothing out of the ordinary.  Well into the building, Ironhorse paused, holding up his hand for Suzanne to do the same.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"Listen," he replied, tilting his head to catch the faint sound.

"That's Harrison," she said after a moment and started forward.

Ironhorse caught her.  "After me, remember?"

With a reluctant sigh she gestured the colonel to lead the way.  He did, taking them to a closed door.

Behind the door they could hear the soft drone of Harrison Blackwood's voice.

Ironhorse stepped forward and tested the knob.  The voice fell silent.  "He's got it blocked."

"Then he's not an alien."

Ironhorse pressed his shoulder against the door and shoved.  The door gave only slightly.  He pulled back and plowed forward.

Ironhorse burst into the room, Suzanne following closer than he liked.  A flash of motion forced the colonel to duck, and he realized it was Blackwood as he reached for his M-9.  "Whoa!" he yelped, more to stop himself than to halt Blackwood's attack.

""Ironhorse," Harrison said, a tinge of uncertainly there as he rapidly concluded the colonel and Suzanne weren't aliens.  "Where are they?" he demanded.

"We didn't see anything or anyone," the colonel countered, his annoyance getting the better of him.

"Are you all right?" Suzanne asked.  "When we didn't hear from you—"

"Let's go!" Harrison ordered, heading for the door.

Suzanne followed.

Ironhorse shook his head, then followed as well.  There would be time enough to rip the astrophysicist another asshole once he knew they were safe.

In the hallway, the colonel pushed past Suzanne to catch Blackwood.  "Doctor, if you don't mind?"

It took Harrison a moment to realize what Ironhorse meant.  "Fine, Colonel, but it's that way," he said, pointing.

"What?"

"The alien technology."

Paul led the way, following Blackwood's directions until they found the alien device.  "They're gone," he said, his attention drawn to the simple yet somehow elegant structure. "What is that?"

"That's alien medical science, Colonel," Harrison explained.  "It works like a distillery.  Somehow they're able to reduce the brains to their very essence, and then one very potent drop of this extract and the sick alien is cured."

"This is a perfect example of the alien's logic systems and problem solving abilities," Suzanne said, riding the wake of Blackwood's excitement.

"It's absolutely amazing.  It's so complex, and it's so simple."

A buzz at the base of his skull prompted Ironhorse to say, "I'll look around and see what I can pick up."

Harrison gave the colonel's arm a light slap as he moved away, then turned his attention to the device.  "Suzanne, look at this container.  What can it possibly be made of to withstand so much voltage?"

"Something… not of this world," she said.  "I can't even tell if it's elemental or synthetic.  We are going to learn so much."

Harrison reached out, carefully, gently, and touched the smooth, warm surface of the container.  With an almost inaudible ping it erupted into a shower of crystaline flasks that rained down on the two scientists.

"Harrison, what—?"  Ironhorse froze, watching the flakes raining down on the two Project members.

"Colonel, stay back!" Blackwood snapped, holding up a hand.

"What happened?" Ironhorse demanded.

"Harrison touched the container and it… exploded," Suzanne said.

"Stay there," Paul told them.  "I'll have to get a contamination unit in here."

The pair watched the colonel leave, then exchanged worried looks.  "Contamination?" Suzanne said softly.  "What if he's right?"

"We'll be fine," Harrison said matter-of-factly.

"How do you know?"

He shrugged.  "I can't explain it, Suzanne, but I know we'll be fine…"  He glanced up at the remaining tangle of wires and cables.  "Whatever they had planned for us… it isn't going to work."

"Harrison…"

Blackwood looked back to the microbiologist.  "What?"

"Sometimes you're… weird."

A smile lifted the corners of his mouth.  "Why, thank you, Suzanne."

She shook her head and silently prayed he was right.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Ironhorse paced in the small hospital room.  Isolation.  He hadn't been in an isolation ward since his return from Vietnam, and he didn't like it one little bit.

He looked past the glass window, watching the nurses at the workstation at the center of a circular space.  In the room next to his Blackwood sat on his bed, apparently meditating.  On the other side Suzanne lay, napping.

He saw Norton roll up to the workstation, accompanied by the tall, thin man who was their doctor.  Nathan Fishlyn looked like a living scarecrow and his pale blond hair, dark brown eyes, and perpetually rumpled look only added to the illusion.  After a moment speaking to the nurses, Norton and Fishlyn walked over to the colonel's room, passed through the exterior security room and entered into his room proper.

"Good news, Colonel," the doctor announced.  "We isolated the active agent."

"What is it?"

"Chicken Pox," Norton said with a grin, then waved to Harrison to join them.

Blackwood bounded out of his room and joined them, pausing to tap on the glass between Ironhorse's and Suzanne's rooms.  She sat up, yawned, stretched, then walked over to join them as well.

"Are we all right?" she asked.

"You're fine," Fishlyn said.  "The material was coated with active Chicken Pox."

"Chicken Pox?" Suzanne echoed.

"And, according to your medical records, all of you have had the virus," the physician said.  "You're free to go."

"Yes!" Harrison said, then scooped Suzanne into a hug.

"Thank goodness that's all it was," she said.

"We were lucky," the colonel told them.  "This time."  He met Blackwood's happy gaze.  "Next time, no touching."

The astrophysicist nodded solemnly, but the twinkle in his eye told the colonel that it was a promise the scientist couldn't keep.


End file.
